


Bric-a-Brac

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: A particular item in a market stall reminds Watson of something important. Written for JWP prompt #2 over on Watson's Woes on Dreamwidth.





	Bric-a-Brac

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Another day, another snippet. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.  
> Author's Notes: Written for the following prompt: Picture of a flea-market table with an assortment of items.

The late spring weather was that rare perfect mix of clouds, sunshine, and mild temperatures that make a doctor’s rounds a pleasure rather than the drudgery they often are in less sanguine months. I took full advantage and set off on foot, rather than hailing a cab as had been my habit too often of late.   
  
Midway through my route, I came across an open market of sorts, a conglomeration mostly of farmer’s carts offering produce, but with a few other hastily-erected stalls thrown in. A random table full of bric-a-brac caught my eye: an oil lamp, a foreign-looking decorative statuette, random dishes, and a battered old coffee-mill, just like the one Mrs Hudson used to have. Holmes had appropriated it at one point, as part of one of his investigations. Mrs Hudson had pointedly retaliated by serving overstewed, tepid tea and watery cold coffee for a week.  
  
The memory made me chuckle, but then I frowned as I tried to remember how long it had been since I had seen Holmes, much less Mrs Hudson. It was more than weeks. Had it really been months? I feared it had.  
  
There was a telegraph office on my way to my next patient. I would send Mary a wire, advising her I planned on calling in at Baker Street at the end of my rounds. I didn’t want her to worry if I was late for dinner. And our cook, although used to a doctor’s varying schedule, was always easier to deal with if she had advanced notice of any changes to mealtimes.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 2, 2018


End file.
